


Just One More Taste

by Casity



Series: Taste [1]
Category: Batman - Fandom, Nightwing - Fandom
Genre: Addiction, Batdad, College, Drug Use, Family Discord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-06-07 11:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15218318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casity/pseuds/Casity
Summary: Dick hates college - but drinking, getting high, and blowing off class helps; Till Bruce finds out. AU.





	1. Chapter One

"Seventeen and the shit!"

"SEVENTEEN AND THE SHIT!" Dick Grayson was currently fairly wasted, standing atop a filthy kitchen table. He was surrounded by kids, most of which were twenty or older, and most of which attended Gotham University, same as him. It had been discovered (for the sixteenth time that night) how young he was, and everyone seemed to love it. The only problem with screaming it across the room was the girl situation. Girls weren't so eager to hook up once they heard his age.

He downed another shot of straight vodka and didn't even grimace. The night seemed to go by in bits and pieces until it dawned on the teenager that he was on his hands and knees, in the lawn, vomiting up horrible, burning liquor. People were laughing all around as Dick wobbly rose to his feet. Aaron, a friend from his building, was pulling on his arm. "Ok, ok, you threw up. You ready to powder this shit?"

"What?" Dick slowly turned around and was grateful his friend was holding onto him.

"The oxy, man, come on. Let's get inside before security or someone sees us." He tugged once again and this time Dick followed him back into the building which had somehow become their dorm complex. Dick didn't hide his confusion as they stumbled up the stairs.

"When did we get back to our place?"

Aaron just laughed. "Shit. How much did you fuckin' drink?" He was now unlocking the door to Dick's room (when did Dick give him the keys?) and stumbled in, going straight over to the desk. He pulled a small baggie from his pocket. "Get the straw and spoon, would'ja?"

Dick complied easily finding the items and handing them over, watched Aaron crush four pills with the spoon and divide the powder into various lines with a razor blade.

"Shit," he said as he handed the spoon to Dick. He put the straw into a nostril as he put a finger to the other and quickly took a hit. "What a night."

Popping the spoon in his mouth, Dick eagerly licked off whatever residue the pain killers had left. He wasn't sure why he bothered with the pills. His tolerance was already pretty good, but if he drank before he could usually get a nice float going before passing out. He followed Aaron's example, but made sure to take an extra line before handing the straw back. "What time is it?"

"It's morning, man. Almost six-thirty."

Huh. Dick tugged off his jacket, grabbed his phone from a pocket, and tossed the clothing to the floor. He stumbled to his bed and stared at it momentarily before deciding to do two more hits. Once he felt the slow numbing in his brain he told Aaron he was good and collapsed into his sheets. Unlocking his phone he frowned at the various missed calls and messages. Slowly scrolling through them he felt his heart skip a beat. Bruce.

Messages: Bruce

Answer phone.

Where are you?

Message: Dick

School.

Messages: Bruce

Situation resolved. Call.

Message: Dick

Ok.

Messages: Bruce

You haven't called?

Message: Dick

Stop. I'm so fuckin' sick.

Messages: Bruce

I'll be over in the morning. Somethings up.

Dick stared in horror at his screen. Apparently Bruce had been texting and Dick had been drunkenly responding. He instantly let the phone clatter to the floor as he leapt to his feet. "Shit Aaron! Out! You gotta get out and take all this shit with you. Wait! My alcohol – you gotta hide that in your room!" Dick grabbed his backpack and emptied all its contents onto his bed and instead filled it with various liquor bottles and his weed.

"You're totally ruining this."

"My fucking dad is going to be here any fucking second!"

Aaron was on his feet at once, bolting for the door, ignoring Dick's yells to take the drugs and spirits.

"Asshole."Dick quickly grabbed the straw, spoon and razor and shoved them into his back pocket. He brushed the powder from the desk onto the floor and then turned on his heels to follow Aaron. Relief flooded through his chest when he found the hall empty and he quickly slammed a fist to his friend's door. "Hey! Just take this shit, Aaron! He's not here yet!"

The door opened and Aaron hastily snatched the backpack before disappearing again.

Ok.

Good.

Dick headed back to his room and grabbed his phone, calling Bruce and praying he wasn't too late. Bruce wasn't an idiot. One look at the seventeen year old and he'd know. Dick hopped around the room, changing out of his disgusting vomit and liquor covered clothes and into clean sweats.

"Richard." Bruce answered.

"Hey. What'ch ya' coming over for? I'm fine." Dick was rummaging through piles of laundry for a clean top. "Just had a migraine. It's cleared up."

"Is that right?" Someone was clearly unconvinced.

Dick smelled a blue tee and decided it was better than anything else. He tugged it over his head, dropping the phone in the process. "Shit!" He dove after it and hit speakerphone, remaining on his hands and knees as he continued. His head was so fuzzy. "Yeah."

"Well, I've already parked and am almost to your dorm. You mind waiting to let me in your building?"

"What?" Dick couldn't keep the whine out of his voice.

"See you downstairs." The line disconnected the same time Dick's whole body went cold. He was so screwed. Royally fucked. Dead. The adrenaline had helped him sober some, but he still felt drunk and high – not to mention he'd probably be falling asleep from the cocktail of pills and booze.

Energy shots. Dick crawled-clawed across the floor to the mini fridge. He downed three small bottles and jumped up, a fourth in hand as he hurried to the front entrance. He was barefoot and disgusted at the feeling of grime collected on the floor. Bruce was casually waiting outside, shades and a ball cap – as if that was enough to hide who he was. The billionaire clearly wasn't going to the office after this; He had on jeans.

"Hi." Bruce said, his eyebrow quirked as he scanned the teenager.

Dick made a point to slip outside rather than to allow his guardian in. It was cold out, late March, almost April, and his toes curled at the assaulting air. Hopefully the alcohol would help fight the chill. "You wanted to talk?"

People passing by made a point to look at the two.

"… If you think we're going to talk out here your sorely mistaken."

"We can't go in my room." Dick racked his brain. "I, uh, got a girl up there."

The billionaire actually smiled at that. "Is that a fact?"

Dick opted silence.

"Well, I'll wait for her to get dressed before I go in. I'd like to make sure she's your age as well, since you're still a minor." Bruce motioned towards the door. "After you. Your feet must be freezing."

The Romani glared for a few seconds before swiping his card and letting them both in. He led the way, taking time to gulp down his last energy shot as they walked. Once at the room door Dick paused and looked at Bruce. "Just wait a second."

Bruce gave a nod, though he was clearly aware there was no girl inside.

Dick slipped inside and clicked the door behind him with a sigh. Giving his face a firm slap he turned back around and let Bruce enter. "She's gone."

"Really?" He entered the room and said nothing about the mess. "So, last night?"

Closing and locking his door felt like a stupid idea and yet here was Dick doing just that. "Yeah?"

"You want to come clean?"

"…You said you didn't need me till this weekend. I didn't really-."

"Do you remember why I said that?" The amusement was gone. This was no nonsense Bruce talking.

"Focus on classes." Dick muttered.

"And how's that going on this Wednesday morning an hour before class? Feeling a bit drunk? Hmm?" When no answer was offered Bruce began to walk around the dorm room. "I could smell you as soon as you opened the door. You reek of vomit and booze. Not to mention the size of your pupils."

Dick casually edged to the desk where Aaron had crushed the Oxy. There was still some residue powder in the grove that outlined the top of the furniture. If a anyone else were looking around his room they wouldn't have thought twice about it, but this was the Batman. Dick started to lean back when he noticed Bruce picking up the jeans he had worn last night. Lunging forward Dick snatched them away. "Could you stop nosing through my shit?" There was a clatter that drew both of their gazes to the floor.

The spoon.

The fucking spoon.

Bruce knelt down to pick it up while Dick was frozen with the realization that he had the straw and razor still in the pants. Shit. Doing his best to appear uninterested Dick began to fold the jeans. It wasn't till Bruce held out a hand that the gypsy looked up. "What?"

"Give me the jeans."

"They're disgusting. What do you need them for?"

"Richard." Bruce was eerily calm and that made it worse. "If you would."

Shit. What was the protocol here? Oh yeah, don't do drugs. Drugs are bad. Drugs get you in trouble.

"Dick?" Bruce waited a few more seconds before grabbing the clothing. He was aware of how still the seventeen year old had become. He rummaged through the pockets and cut his finger before pulling out the straw and razor. "Let me guess. This isn't yours?"

Dick looked up through his eyelashes but said nothing.

Clearing his throat, Bruce seemed to resign himself to not lose his temper. He put the items down on the desk Dick was leaning against, eyes flickering over the surface and finding the traces of powder behind the boy. Keeping his mouth tightly shut he gently pushed Dick out of the way and wet his finger to bring the crushed pills to his tongue.

"It's cotton." Dick blurted.

"Excuse me?"

"Oxycodone."

"Oxycodone." Bruce slowly repeated the name. He grabbed Dick by the shoulders and steered him to the bed, forcing him to sit. "Stay." And just like that the hunt began. Every drawer, every corner, under and behind furniture. The last thing was the bed. Bruce jerked Dick up. "Put on your shoes. Get your school things together. Pack a bag."

"What?"

Bruce was tearing off the sheets and searching the mattress. Dick had never been so grateful for his iPad to hide his porn on. "You heard me. Now!"

Knowing better than to argue, Dick grabbed his shoes and sat in his computer chair, pulling on the tennies. He laced them, surprised when his mind seemed to suddenly tilt the wrong way. He gave himself another smack which got Bruce's attention.

"How high are you?"

"M'fine." Dick asserted, deciding one tied shoe was enough. He stumbled over and collected some clothes into his Adidas track bag as well as his tablet, laptop, and what few books he had. The whole while he felt Bruce's eyes on him. "What about my car?"

"Are you proposing to drive it?!"

"What? No, I'm not that dumb, Bruce."

The 6'2" figure threw Dick a hoodie and waited as the teen pulled it on. He then snatched the suitcase and a fistful of Dick's hood, pushing the boy towards the door.

"Oomph!" Dick about toppled over, clearly still uncoordinated. "Watch it!" He was manhandled the whole way out of the dorm building and onto the busy sidewalks where everyone looked their way. "Bruce, come on." Dick tried to wriggle away from the hand on the back of his neck. Heat burned across his face as a group of girls started giggling at him. Most of which he recognized.

It took about fifteen minutes to make the trek across campus, the whole while Bruce kept ahold of Dick and all the while people stared. Someone even had the gall to take pictures, so Dick flipped them the double birds. When they got to the car he was tossed into the passenger seat purposefully rough.

"Stop, Bruce!" Dick snapped as the suitcase was flung at his head. He was messed up enough that he hadn't caught it and it smacked him right in the face.

"Shut-up and strap in." Bruce snarled as he slammed Dick's door. The drive home was filled with angry silence and Dick's phone as it received about a hundred messages. He quickly silenced it but before he could pocket it Bruce ripped it from his grasp.

"Hey! That's private!"

"I've seen how well you respect privacy. I'll be keeping your electronics until we get to the bottom of this."

Dick was too tired to fight. He could feel himself crashing and let out a sigh of relief as they pulled into the manor. Bruce parked and grabbed the duffel from Dick as they climbed the stairs. Dick was so tired and dizzy that he actually had to steady himself a few times by grabbing his mentors arm.

"Cave." At this point Bruce had the teen by the elbow to lead as well as assure Dick didn't face plant. It took slightly longer than normal to get down, but once they did the billionaire half lifted, half shoved Dick onto the exam table.

"I gotta lie down." The Romani whined, swinging his legs up and almost tipping over the side. Bruce swore under his breath as he caught him. At this point all Dick could do was let himself be positioned. He felt Bruce pulling the hoodie off. It caught on Dick's ears and he gave a yelp that was ignored. He was grateful when Bruce lowered him to lie down on his back.

"Don't move. I'm going to draw blood and then hook you up to an IV."

Dick grunted and closed his eyes, letting the room dissolve as he let himself pass out.

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Yes. Dick should be at Hudson University. Let's make this an AU.
> 
> 2\. I know Dick isn't probably the type to do drugs, but I like to write what I know, and he's the only one who dropped outta college so I feel like that's my in. Plus being forced to go to school really sucks, so who knows.
> 
> 3\. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter Two

When Dick finally found himself nearing conciseness the first thought that came to mind was how badly he needed a drink. His head and neck were aching dully, and if he was being honest he was still tired. He made to try to sit up but grunted when his wrist caught on something. "Hn?" He glanced over and felt his heart flutter at the sight of his left arm handcuffed to the medical bed 'Oh, yeah.'

Bruce had caught him.

The bandage on his arm showed he'd also been tested.

Trying to jerk at the offending cuffs only made them pull sharply into his skin, and he felt his anger slowly rising. Only Bruce would do something like this. "Hey!" He yelled into the empty cave. "It's Dick, not some hardened criminal you've got tied up here!" This was so typical. So he had partied. So what?!

It took about fifteen minutes of shouting before he heard the sound of the cave lift and suddenly Dick regretted his attempts to call someone down. It was Bruce who stepped off and approached. He looked like he had just gotten back from a jog. His skin was wind chaffed and he wore a track jacket, black sweats and running shoes. "Good evening."

Dick kept his mouth shut, wearily eyeing the man.

"Alfred called to say you were throwing a fit."

Dick ignored the 'fit' comment. "Why didn't he come down then?"

"I asked him not to. This is between you and me."

"Alfred is family too."

It looked like Bruce wanted to roll his eyes. Instead he sidestepped Dick's declaration and dug the handcuff key from his pocket. "You and I are going to have a talk and you're going to behave. I'm going to unlock those, but one wrong move and they're back on."

"Mind telling me why I'm handcuffed in the first place? This is a new low, even for you."

"In case you ran. Your behavior has been so irrational I wasn't going to take a chance. You want them off or not?"

What Dick wanted was to spit in his face, but instead nodded. He felt his stomach turn and prayed he wouldn't start vomiting during this talk. Once Bruce uncuffed him Dick rubbed the wrist.

"I have to admit my surprise at your tolerance level. Would you like to know what you scored on your B.A.L?" Bruce clearly didn't care if Dick wanted to hear or not. "A 0.35. To most new drinkers this would involve nearing a coma state, and yet you seemed to be functioning fairly well. That's not even considering the prescription pills in your system."

"Bruce-."

"You'll have to excuse me if I find no pride in your achievements. No matter how long they took to hone and perfect." Bruce then pulled out Dick's phone from his pocket, moving right on. "You're a smart kid. So tell me – what do you think your phone showed me?"

"A lot." Dick was beyond grateful he never saved the number or any messages from the guy he and Aaron got their drugs from. He knew Bruce would have handed that information to the cops without blinking.

Bruce stood, glaring, waiting.

"My bank accounts and probably a ton of pictures and some texts." Dick muttered. He was careful not to offer up too many specifics in the misguided hope that the world's greatest detective hadn't unearthed everything.

Bruce reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet, he removed something from the leather container and showed the seventeen year old. It was Dick's fake I.D. "Once I saw your bank account was littered with purchases from liquor stores I easily found this."

Dick had no doubt that meant his guardian had also seen the few hopeful condoms he kept in his wallet as well. That was embarrassing. The teen offered a tentative smile which was completely the wrong thing to do.

"You want those cuffs back on?"

"No."

"Because what I'm seeing here is a lot of criminal behavior." Bruce pocketed the phone and wallet. "Your friend Aaron sent you a message saying he smoked some of your pot as payment for hiding your things, by the way."

Fucking dumbass Aaron.

"You want to jump in here anytime?" Bruce snapped. "Or should I move onto what we're both going to do next?"

Dick didn't want to know what came next. He forced himself to look his guardian in the eyes and shrugged. What he wanted to do was get the hell out of here and go back to the independence of hIs dorm. The idea of being treated like this after having been in charge of himself for the past few months didn't sit well with him.

"We're going to check your grades and attendance." Bruce carefully instructed as he moved towards the Batcomputer. "If you'll follow me."

No, Dick didn't want to follow but he forced himself to slide off the table. His bare feet hit the floor and he repressed a shudder from the cold. He spared a moment to find his shoes and stepped into them before following Bruce. "Why wait to look?" He said under his breath, but still loud enough for his guardian to hear.

"Because I want you to understand the severity by gauging my response to what I see." Bruce pulled out the chair and motioned for Dick to take a seat. It was a well known tactic, make Dick feel even smaller, make sure he realized who was in charge. Swallowing an angry response the teen accepted the seat and watched Bruce pull up the schools website, easily accessing his grades and attendance records.

The tension in the room grew at the displayed records and Dick squirmed in his seat uncomfortably at the pregnant silence. He finally forced his mouth open and words out. "I can fix this."

His attendance was the reason he was basically failing everything. He never understood why it was mandatory. Just give him the test and let him pass. Though, considering most of his classes were business oriented he sort of doubted that approach would work. Not that it mattered anymore. The computer screen was blaring the truth for the world to see. He had failed out of the spring semester due to missing too many classes. There was no fixing that, at least not until new classes started.

Bruce seemed to be composing himself, as if he wanted to strangle the teenager and was fighting the urge. "Your bedroom has been searched. You can go up and stay there until Alfred or I say otherwise."

Dick gave a clipped nod and rose to his feet.

"And Dick?"

The teenager glanced up.

"Prepare yourself for some major changes."

 

 

Dick flopped onto his bed with a sigh and considered his options. He had left Bruce to cool down in the cave and had a feeling the man would probably suit up and go fight crime to do so. It was later than he had originally thought, nearing the nine o'clock hour. Alfred had met him on the stairs and had actually given the youth the cold shoulder, only stopping to state he left dinner in the bedroom. That had been unexpected, Alfred was almost always understanding.

It seemed like everyone forgot he was in college.

Though, remembering his grades brought Dick back to the reality of the situation. Partying or not, he was still supposed to pass. The only trouble was that Dick really hated school. He had worked extra hard throughout his grade years and that had gotten him an early admit to the university, but it was there that the harsh reality hit. He was actually going to have to run Bruce's families various businesses, and that meant office work, that meant –

Dick shook his head, stopping his train of thought and scrambled to his feet. Bruce said he had searched his room, but that didn't mean he had found everything. Dick opened his window and easily hopped onto the roof, scrambling towards the gutter. He easily uncovered the ziplock bag that held the fifth of Smirnoff and then returned it to its hiding spot.

Drinking at this point in time was nothing short of suicide.

He opted a shower, grabbing some clean pajama bottoms, and locked himself in the bathroom. As the water poured over him he allowed himself to think through his predicament. He'd been drinking for fun since he was fourteen. He, Wally and Roy had a few late night hangs – nothing out of ordinary. True, they never even talked drugs due to Roy's past heroin fuck-up, so Dick's experience came from what he'd witnessed as Robin and the times he'd get hurt badly enough to get the good shit.

The first semester at University had been ok, a few parties, but mostly him figuring out how to balance everything. It hadn't been till late October that first semester that he'd tried mixing. It had been such an amazing release, and for the first time in a long time he'd been able to completely relax. No worries about class, the future, Batman, Titans, girls, or how he was drowning in a life he didn't want.

He had just laid there and floated, completely happy. That memory still made his pulse quicken and his mouth water. Better than sex, and that was saying something.

Dick shut off the water. He used his fingers to shake the water from his hair and grabbed a towel. What was the worst Bruce could do, really?

That was easy. 'Make me move back home.' Dick didn't think he could do that. All the rules and expectations. Bruce liked structure and the teen had discovered he could do without extensive guidelines. To return to a life where he was corralled – no.

There wasn't much to do once he was dressed and back in his room. Bruce and Alfred had been vicious, taking his gaming consoles, his tv, his laptop … So, yeah, basically everything. He didn't miss the fact that the few study guides and notes he had brought from campus were sitting where his computer had been. Dick didn't even touch them, all his books were on his tablet so what was the point? Besides, he'd failed out.

'Let's not forget that little tidbit.'

He flipped off his light and crawled under his covers. He positioned so he was lying on his back, hands intertwined behind his head, staring at the ceiling. For the last few weeks he'd spent his days sleeping, passed out, and his nights doing whatever the hell he wanted.

'There's no chance in hell I'm falling asleep.' He told himself as he squeezed his eyes shut. He focused on the smell of clean sheets and home, trying to force the issue.

(iPod)

How or where the idea popped into his head, Dick couldn't say, but he allowed a huge smile. Of course! Bruce had cleared out his shit, but he seriously doubted he'd bothered with the Touch. It was fucking ancient and Dick hadn't bothered with it for years. Pushing back his covers Dick paced to his desk, opening the messy drawers and digging through old high school papers, pictures, random novels and found the device betwixt and between the mess.

"Worlds greatest detective, huh?" He popped the ear buds in a turned the iPod on, relieved to see three-fourths life left. That was fortunate. He easily accessed the manors wifi and gave a sigh of relief. Crawling into bed he began to send out messages and generally mess around on the Internet. To his disappointment his iPod seemed to be losing its charge faster than normal so Dick plugged it into the wall outlet. The charger cord was too short to reach the bed so Dick dragged a pillow and a blanket to the floor. He was in the middle of creating his nest when the door abruptly opened and the light flashed on. "The hell?!"

Bruce was standing there, bold as brass, glowering at the sight he'd walked in on. He was still dressed from his run, apparently tonight hadn't been a Batman night. "Where did you get that?"

Dick pushed himself up and all but ripped the device out of the wall, his anger mounting. Bruce hadn't even knocked. He hadn't even fucking knocked! He had taken all lines of communication and now wasn't even giving the illusion of allowing Dick some privacy. "This is my room. Maybe knock, huh?!"

"You've lost the privilege to even have a door. You're lucky I didn't take it down." Bruce marched over to Dick and took the iPod. "You're to keep it open at all times, and if you don't I'll simple remove it as a problem. Now, let me guess, this has Internet."

Dick glared.

"Get up, we're going to talk about what you can come to expect for the foreseeable future."

"I already know what to expect. I'll be living under the regime of a jackass dictator!"

Bruce set his jaw, hands on his hips and breathed deeply through his nose. He held his own, giving the faintest start of a smile. "You should be so lucky. Get off the floor. Now."

Dick found himself obeying, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, arms folded against his chest. He averted his eyes.

"As you can see you'll be allowed only books for classes. I've gone ahead and ordered any you seem to be missing. They'll be here tomorrow. No electronics unless Alfred or myself are there to watch you."

Dick made a noise of protest.

"No Robin duty. It's suspended. I've informed the Titans."

"Good."

Once again, Bruce ignored him. "I've contacted your professors about sending whatever they can. They seemed to understand why you were pulled from campus, what with your lack of attendance. You might have failed but you're going to have these classes memorized by next semester." The billionaire paused for a few moments, studying the boy avoiding eye contact. "Alfred has some books you can read for downtime and your training will continue as it normally would outside of school. Though you are no longer allowed in the cave unaccompanied. We've moved all medication down there and changed the passcode."

At this Dick flicked his eyes over to met Bruce's angrily.

"You got a problem with that?"

"No."

"Good. All the alcohol in the house has been marked. You take any and we'll know."

Dick did his best to look mockingly innocent. "Even all the wine in the cellar? That had to take a long time. Did you use sharpies to draw lines?" He cocked his head. "I'm seventeen, not seven."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Bruce finally snapped. "Are you trying to make things worse? Trust me, Dick, they can get a whole lot worse."

Honestly, Dick didn't know what else Bruce could do. He'd taken Dick's freedom. What could be worse than that? "Are you done?"

"You fucked up, Richard. You fucked up and you got caught." Bruce using the 'f' word was extremely rare, but it did little to get the teens attention. "Keep your door open." He spat before leaving Dick alone once again.

Dick stomped over and turned off the light and went straight to his window. He opened it and jumped onto the roof, grabbing the alcohol and returning to bed. He was grateful he hadn't eaten the dinner Alfred had brought up, and thus began rotating between a swig of vodka and a bite of food to help stop the taste of hard liquor lingering. "Fuck you."

 

 

"Time to get up."

Dick groaned and hid his face into his pillow, slowly registering what was happening until he remembered the vodka from last night. His eyes flew open at the realization that he'd never put it back, meaning it was somewhere in his room.

"Dick!" Bruce snapped again.

The Romani slowly sat up. "Be right there, boss." He tried the nickname in hopes Bruce would leave his room before possibly seeing the offending bottle. Fortunately it worked and Bruce nodded, moving back down the hall. Dick scrambled up and let out a sigh of relief as he found the vodka under the covers, next to his leg. "That was close."

He wrapped it up and crept onto the roof to hide it. He shut and locked his window for good measure once back inside and then grabbed his clothes from yesterday, which were still on the floor in the bathroom and slipped into them, aware that the blue shirt stunk of stale sweat. He collected the dinner tray and hurried downstairs to deposit it in the sink before finding Bruce waiting at the old grandfather clock.

"Morning," Dick offered.

Bruce studied him and then led the way into the damp underground. He waited while Dick changed into his yoga pants and clean tee-shirt and then motioned him over to the mat. They had barely begun sparring before Bruce grabbed Dick's arm and forced a stop. "Are you still drunk?"

"What? No!" Dick lied. Last he remembered he'd been awake at 1:47 AM and still drinking occasionally as he leafed through 'To Kill A Mockingbird.' He remembered realizing he was too drunk to read before passing out. It was now only 4:30, chances were he was still a little under the influence.

Unconvinced, Bruce grabbed his chin and looked into his eyes, no doubt to get a closer lol at his pupils, and Dick quickly looked away (like that would help).

"You're being weird."

"And you're not sober." Bruce released the chin and appeared to be in disbelief. "Where?"

"Where what?"

Bruce grabbed the boy's shirt at his neck and jerked him forward. When he spoke next it was on a whole different level than the last night. The man was irate. "THE ALCOHOL!"

"I don't know what you're talking abou-."

*Smack*

Dick took the backhand in silence and knew Bruce was being generous. The hit hardly registered but that didn't stop it from being emotionally jarring. His guardian had never big on physical discipline, but he used it when he felt it was called for. Ever since Dick's first encounter at nine years old, it had always been a harsh reminder that his parents were dead and some stranger had stepped up to play the role. Dick hated that. Even if Bruce had been in his life longer than John Grayson, it didn't stop it from being a horrible feeling.

He felt his face coloring in embarrassment and anger.

"WHERE?" Bruce repeated mistaking the blushing as shame.

Infuriated by the hit Dick kept his mouth shut.

"What am I supposed to do with you?!" Bruce gave him two shakes in quick succession before releasing the shirt. "How the hell am I supposed to help you?!"

The statement surprised Dick, who felt like what was happening to him was the opposite of help. "Stop trying to control me. That'd help." He snarled, backing away from his mentor, lifting a hand to his cheek.

"You're seventeen. It's my job to control you when you're obviously out of control." Bruce snapped before grabbing the boys upper arm and dragging him back upstairs and into the bedroom. Once inside he motioned towards Dick. "Show me where it is."

A shrug.

"Your parents-."

Enough was enough and Bruce was about to cross a dangerous line. Dick launched himself at the man, swinging and feeling his fist easily slapped aside. Bruce was clear headed and more skilled, even if he wasn't as fast as Dick. Soon the Romani found himself on his back, the air leaving his lungs painfully. He struggled, waiting for his lungs to fill again.

"You know what happens in mental wards when a patient acts like you?"

Dick sucked in slowly, narrowing his eyes.

Bruce stared, his eyes searching Dick's face. There was hurt there, hurt and confusion, like the billionaire was trying to understand. "They get solitary confinement. Is that where we are? A goddamn timeout?!"

"M'not mentally ill." Dick finally managed.

"Where is it, Dick?"

"…gutter."

Bruce nodded and left Dick's line of sight. The sound of the window, the roof, and finally footsteps returning signaled the bottle had been found. Dick stared at the ceiling, watching as Bruce came back into sight. "Get up."

Dick didn't want to, but he propped himself up on his elbows and did as told. He was surprised when Bruce handed him the bottle.

"I want you to pour it out." Bruce jerked a head towards the bathroom.

The idea of flushing the last remaining bit of escape was hard to process. Dick stared at the half full bottle and told himself to move. It took a few seconds, and Bruce seemed patient enough. Finally the clear liquid was gone leaving an empty bottle that he handed to his guardian.

"Look at me."

Dick slowly met similar yet different blue eyes.

"I want you shadowing Alfred all day. I've got things I need to take care of. Ok?"

"Whatever." Dick was starting to feel sick. As if his body realized it wouldn't be getting anymore of the good stuff and had decided to revolt. He was thankful he hadn't bothered with breakfast.

Once Bruce had deposited Dick to Alfred he took his leave and returned to the cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Control yourself; take only what you need from it." MGMT


	3. Chapter Three

Dick managed to follow Alfred around for a good chunk of the day before he felt his body begin to fall ill. He did his best to try and act normal, and that lasted all of ten minutes before rushing to the nearest bathroom. For whatever reason he tried to convince himself the butler wouldn't notice the reoccurring trips but that was wishful thinking. The chills, trembling and sweating were obvious and Alfred sent him to bed. That was where Dick encountered the entryway to his room lacking something of value.

Bruce had removed the door.

Dick stared for for a few moments before deciding to completely ignore it. He crawled into his bed and felt his stomach give a turn, forcing him crouching in front of the toilet. If anyone had asked him if he wanted a drink he would turn them down in a heart beat.

Fucking alcohol.

Dick had hangovers before, but he had never gone through withdrawal this quickly between drinks. He swore his body knew his situation. It was like that well into the night, lots of visits to the bathroom, lots of showers and drinking an inordinate amount of water. Bruce and Alfred left him alone for the most part, and that was a blessing.

It was rounding 8PM when Bruce sauntered in. He had a few books, most of which were for Dick's classes, but there were also two novels, both of which were Steven King instead of Alfred's literary classics (thank god). "How you feeling?" He asked as he put the school books on Dick's desk and handed the novels to the teen.

"Fine. Just a bug."

"Let's not insult each other's intelligence. It's withdrawal." Bruce stared it matter-of-factly, obviously disappointed, and then left the bedroom with a quick: "Goodnight."

 

Apparently Bruce had decided to forgo training the following morning, allowing Dick to sleep in as long as necessary (11:34 AM). That had been unexpected. Dick quickly grabbed a pair of clean jeans and a sweatshirt, not bothering with a shirt, and changed in the privacy of his bathroom. He padded barefoot downstairs to the kitchen, wondering where everyone was, but honestly hoping he'd not see anyone. He dug through the pantry and found his cereal collection, grabbed a box and shot back upstairs to his room.

Dick felt too vulnerable without his bedroom door so he decided to eat on the roof. Half of him expected his window to be wired shut, so he was pleased when it opened. He slipped on a pair of chucks before climbing out. Making himself comfortable, he pulled up his hood and tucked his feet close to his body before beginning to devour the dry cereal.

It was a good fifteen minutes before he heard a noise in his room. Dick gave a sigh when Alfred called his name and made his way back inside.

The butler frowned at the box of cereal which Dick unwillingly handed over. "I brought up some fresh fruit and a sandwich, a more appropriate lunch."

A nod as Dick saw the tray sitting on his desk, right beside his text books. "Ok."

"You're attention will be focused on your school work for the next few hours. Master Bruce has asked that you start at the beginning of each book, taking notes as you read. He'll review what you've learned tonight."

Hackles started to rise and Dick gave a jerky nod.

"At four you will be free to spend some time outside on the grounds." Alfred was obviously still extremely disappointed in Dick, that much was clear. "I ask that you respect our wishes and stay near the house."

"I will."

There was a pointed look and Alfred grabbed Dick's hamper and brought it over to the bed and began to strip the sheets. "I cannot begin to express my surprise and frustration with you, young sir, but I hope you are aware of its existence."

Dick thought it was being expressed very clearly, but as so many times before, he kept his mouth shut.

Before leaving the room, dirty laundry in tow, Alfred told Dick to: "please do as you're told."

So, Dick did just that. Alfred came back up a few times, cleaning the bathroom, dusting, sweeping, and finally making the bed. All the while Dick tried to focus on his school work, reading information his brain found so boring it didn't even want to store. The urge to drink was back and strong. At four he was relieved and fled outside, happy to finally escape the house and Alfred's watchful eye.

He mainly just dribbled his soccer ball around, but it was still a hell of a lot better than what he had been doing the past 42 hours. He got in about an hour of messing around before Bruce's car was pulling down the drive. Dick felt like he'd been caught doing something wrong and ducked back into the house and ran up the stairs to his room. He grabbed 'The Stand' from his nightstand and opened it back up as he flopped onto his bed. He was in the middle of reading about Nick when he heard Bruce coming upstairs. Dick gave a sigh of relief when he heard the billionaire go into his own bedroom. Dick sprang back up and crept back downstairs, finding Alfred in the kitchen.

He received a surprised look.

"Am I not allowed in here or something?" Dick asked, questioning the silent response.

"You're welcome here."

"Cool. Bruce is home." Dick opened the candy drawer and grabbed a bag of Skittles, slipping them in his back pocket.

Alfred simply hummed in affirmation.

"Are we doing a sit down dinner, cause I'd like to eat in my room, if that's cool?"

To this Alfred looked up and frowned. He nodded towards the oven, indicating dinner was cooking. "You've been doing a lot of things the way you'd like. Tonight you will eat at the table. I believe master Bruce has things to discuss with you."

What, *more* stuff to discuss? Any more and Dick felt he'd choke on his own vomit. Dick didn't hide his contempt. "Are you SERIOUS?!"

"Very much so."

"I'm so *fucking* sick of this! It's not fair!"

"Young man, were I you, I would rethink my attitude." Alfred snapped as he swung around. He looked mad – like, uncharacteristically mad. The butler never lost his temper. "Go study until you're called for dinner. RIGHT now. Go!"

Dick was slowly learning how to despise someone he thought he'd never think poorly of. He steamed for a moment before flipping Alfred the finger and taking his leave.

"Richard Grayson!"

Dick ignored him and stormed away.

 

It was Bruce who called him for dinner, apparently Alfred hadn't said anything because the billionaire seemed to be in a decent mood as they ate. Dick actually thought he was going to make it through the meal without Bruce talking, but as soon as he opened his mouth to excuse himself Bruce spoke.

"I found you someone to talk to. It's once a week."

"What?"

"It not what you think." Bruce said. "I just think the drinking and pills are something we need to stop in their tracks. This man's job is just discussing ways to get things back under control."

"You making a big deal over my being drunk isn't helping any--."

"Do you even realize how concerning this situation is to Alfred and myself? Your B.A.L was much lower than that it probably was earlier in the night. How long between getting tested and your last drink? How much did you throw up? Honestly, Dick, how much can you drink in a night?"

'Half a fifth or more.' Dick silently admitted to himself.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "In my opinion you're a functioning drunk on his way to becoming an alcoholic."

"I'm not a drunk or an alcoholic," Dick mumbled. "Can I be excused, please?"

"Your first appointment is tomorrow, nine in the morning. You may go, but leave your school notes in my bedroom before you go to bed. I want to see what you've covered today."

"Batman tonight?" Dick was aware of the jealousy in his voice.

"Yes. I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Sure."

 

The doctor Bruce had found had been coerced (or rather paid a shit ton) to come to the manor rather than meeting at his practice. He was older than Bruce, blonde with a quiet personality. Sessions took place in Bruce's office, and the first was like a meet and greet where Dick filled out questionnaires and tried to appear friendly. It was uncomfortable, being asked things like: how much do you drink, do you gulp or sip alcohol, do you hide bottles, have you ever stolen pills to get high?

Dick found himself telling truths as he personally saw them.

"Do you want to talk about the article?" The doctor had said towards the end of the session. He had been explaining triggers like Dick was an idiot.

"Wait, what?"

A pause, like the doctor realized he probably said too much.

"There was an article? What, about me?"

A tentative: "yes." The man drew out his phone and googled it, easily pulling it up to show the teenager. It had a picture of Dick with Bruce escorting him off campus. It was the one where he had flipped the double birds at the stranger taking his picture. (Chapter One)

Shit.

"Nobody told me." Dick muttered as he read. Apparently someone had done their research. It mentioned his failure to go to classes, his partying, underage drinking, as well as a nice bit declaring him a spoiled, rich frat boy. "Well, at least I managed to convey my feelings through the picture."

The doctor chuckled at that – maybe he wasn't too bad.

After the session ended Dick realized he never had asked for the poor guys name. Oh well. He fell into the routine of morning work outs, breakfast, school work, lunch and an hour to read, more school work, outdoors, free time, dinner, and bed. The days Dr. Hintrop came offered some change, but not much.

It was halfway into the second week that Bruce tossed him a cheap MP3 player and allowed him time on his old laptop to put a few songs on the device. The next day Barbara even got to visit and Alfred let them hang out all afternoon.

They spent their time in the upstairs gym, Dick's bedroom (where Barbara laughed at his lack of a door), kicking around the soccer ball, and the pool. He knew Barbara was aware of his situation, but she never brought it up. They talked about her nights as Batgirl, her boyfriend (fuck 'em), and how much Dick hated being home.

It was there that things got out of hand.

They were swimming around in the pool, just enjoying each other's company when Dick declared: "I'm so sick of Bruce and Alfred."

The girl was quiet.

"It's like, I made a mistake. I acted my age. I know that neither of them have any experience with 'having a good time' but how's that my fault?" He took a deep breath and pulled himself beneath the water for a few seconds before popping back up. "Do they even *know* what its like for a normal kid?"

"I think Bruce knows a lot more then you're giving him credit for. He sees all sorts of things as Batman, as you well know, and maybe that's why he's responding the way he is."

"Come on. I'm not some drunk homeless guy. I'm not a junkie. Prescription pills aren't exact heroin! And don't tell me you've never tried weed."

Barbara flushed slightly. "Actually, no, I haven't."

That was a surprise. "But you're, like … You know."

"What does that mean?!"

"Popular."

"I hate that word."

"Fine, you're well liked." Dick amended.

"So that automatically means I'm smoking weed?"

Dick shrugged and kicked over to the side of the pool, pulling himself to sit on the edge. "Usually means you've tried it."

She ignored that. "Bruce and Alfred care about you. They're doing what they think is best. I'd like to remain a neutral party, but that doesn't mean you can't talk to me or complain."

"But you're not neutral." Dick spat the words bitterly. "Are you?"

Emerald green eyes studied him, making his gut jolt. God, she was pretty.

"Never mind, forget I said that." Dick got to his feet, going for the towels, doing his best not to keep imagining the girl naked. "I'm just glad you're here."

"Me too, Dickie." She quipped and pulled herself up, accepting a towel from the seventeen year old. "I'm always going to be your friend. No matter what."

 

"Come on, Bruce, it's almost been a month! You can't keep me here for ever – and no, bringing me to the office doesn't count. Nor do partial patrols with you watching me the whole time." The two were in the cave. Bruce was in the process of digging through a rather large digital medical file belonging to a Jerry Applegate, a John Doe he'd recently identified who'd been an O.D they'd discovered earlier that night.

"The list of consults in file is bigger than the EHR and hard copy records of the family practice he'd been seeing," Bruce muttered. "History of drug use, yet no records of testing or signed controlled substance forms... which he was receiving."

Dick sighed and leaned against the computer desk, glancing at the screen. He knew that Bruce was making a point to pull as many substance abuse case files as humanly possible. Since when did they spend precious time with such small fish?

"The metal chips in his hair were 304 stainless."

"Most common type." Dick chirped absentmindedly.

Things between himself and Alfred and Bruce had been smooth sailing for the last week and a half. It was almost as if nothing had happened. Dick had his electronics back, he had nights he'd patrol with Bruce, he still saw Dr. Hintrop but that wasn't too bad (they mostly just stared at each other), and conversations with Alfred and Bruce were amicable.

Yeah, things were almost back to normal.

Almost being the operative word. Normal being another.

"Bruce, come on!" Dick tilted his head to the side so he was blocking his guardians line of sight.

Bruce just gently shoved his head away with his ever serious expression. He glanced over, blue on blue eyes, and frowned. "Very well."

That had been unexpected. Dick had figured it would have taken a lot more than a tad of whining to earn permission. Goddamn, he hadn't even tried that hard. It was hard to keep the excitement out of his voice when he breathed out a: "For reals?"

"I want you back before midnight, phone on at all times, and a promise – look at me." The billionaire waited till their eyes were locked before continuing. "And a promise not to touch any mind altering substance."

"Like you wouldn't test me as soon as I got home," Dick joked, too pleased to even be mad about the fact. "I promise."

"Very well."

Dick quirked a brow. "Car keys?"

"I'll get them to you before tomorrow night." Slightly narrowing his eyes Bruce gave a short nod. "I'm trusting you."

The smile received was luminous and enough to fool both parties that things were back to normal.

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Control yourself. Take only what you need from it." MGMT


	4. Chapter Four

So far the only nice thing about summer school was the lack of traffic and empty parking spaces that littered campus. Dick had been pleased with that, but that was about the extent of it. Summer classes would last about 8 weeks, save one that was over in six. While the semester would be shorter it also meant a lot more work to cram everything in the shortened time period.

Bruce had declared that this would be a good thing. "A condensed semester will offer more of a challenge."

Translation: "You'll be too fucking busy to get into trouble."

Dick could deal, so he dealt and did his best to keep up with his classes those first two weeks. All things considered, those first two weeks were torture. How the hell was he supposed to focus on something so confining? It didn't help that his classmates were pretty much devoted save one guy who, like Dick, hadn't passed.

At this point for Dick, it was almost second nature to flock towards the failure side of the spectrum. His newfound acquaintance, Troy, seemed half baked most days and always smelled like clove cigarettes which Dick found somewhat feminine. Neither talked much, mostly communicating through nods, shrugs, and grunts.

It was after ACC 201, their last class of that second week, when Troy finally seemed inclined to speak. They were walking out of the building and as Troy shoved a Djarum Black in his mouth he held out a hand to stop his younger counterpart. "How old are you? Seem kinda young for Principals of Accounting."

Dick was well trained in how to treat his older classmates. "Seventeen. How're those cloves helping your masculinity?"

Troy paused in his attempt to light up and drew a huge smile, removing the cigarette in question. "They taste better. Seventeen, huh? You're a sophomore?"

"…Last year was my freshman year, failed out of second semester." He paused. "Attendance."

A nod as the cigarette was lit. "So, you're super smart, huh?"

Now that was a good question. Dick took a moment to consider. "My parents are just … into education."

"Ah, same here. We got-got, huh? Anyhow, I need a lift, you mind?"

No, Dick didn't mind at all. He followed Troy's directions and arrived at rather nice apartment complex, and as the older boy unbuckled he jerked his head towards the building.

"Come on up, get you a beer or something."

"Uh…" Dick glanced between the building and his phone. This was the first real social interaction outside the superhero community that he'd had since Bruce had dragged him off campus in March. Well, fortunately Bruce wouldn't be home till tomorrow morning. Alfred would be expecting him, but there were a million ways to avoid questions. "Yeah, ok."

"Are you allowed?" Troy had sensed the hesitation and was pulling back. "I don't need angry parents at my door, man."

Angry parents? That was one way to put it. "Nah, were good."

That was the first time in months Dick inhaled marijuana and had a beer. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought of Dr. Hintrop's lecture about triggers, and happily admitted his being peer pressure. The need to be accepted by the older kids that seemed to constantly make up his peer group. Dick easily blamed his guardian, hell – it was that or take the blame himself.

Dick made it back home (he wasn't that high, right?), showered, and started his clothes in the washer without running into Alfred. Dissolving evidence was too easy sometimes.

After that Troy and Dick began to have 'study-sessions' at the end of each week. It only took convincing Alfred for Bruce to basically agree. "What does Dr. Hintrop say?"

"That I'm acting normal, and to keep things in perspective, avoid triggers – stuff like that." Dick answered, unadulterated.

Bruce gave a slow nod. "And you agree? You think this is a good idea?"

The question had been a privilege, Bruce was actually asking Dick for his input. It was a white flag, and Dick refused it with his answer. "I think school is helping me avoid drinking and what not. I'd like to focus on my grades as much as I can instead of having too much time to myself. So, yeah, these study sessions will help."

Yes. Dick went that far.

And Bruce had believed him. There was no double checking or obsessive parental behavior. Bruce just nodded with a smile that seemed to be inner woven with pride, and said: "That sounds great, Dick."

The inflection of pride made Dick feel the opposite of great, but it didn't stop his conscious manipulation.

 

"You started college at sixteen?!" Troy and Dick had been watching tv with about five other people, all of which were strangers to the younger boy. "Man, when's your birthday?"

A drugged-up looking girl was learning against Dick's arm as she processed the 'shrooms Troy had pulled out. Dick had politely refused, happy with his joint and beer. "March 20th."

"Whoa." Troy breathed, but was clearly focused on something other than his friends birthday.

Dick found their behavior boring and quickly excused himself, saying he had to be home early. Instead of going home he shot his old 'script dealer a text, went to the bank, withdrew $35.00 and bought two 15 mg of oxycodone. Dick pocketed the pills with a sigh and made his way back to the car. He was aware that Bruce still had access to his bank account, so buying anymore would have been idiotic.

Shooting Alfred a text that he was going to see Barbara, he made his way to the girls, hoping to surprise her. It ended up the other way around. She opened the door with a smile, invited him in wherein he found Jim Gordon sitting at the dinner table.

"Oh!" Dick proclaimed. "Are you guys eating? I didn't want to interrupt."

"You aren't, we just finished."

Jim rose to his feet and shook Dick's hand. "How are you, son?"

"M'good, sir. Yourself?" Dick removed his jacket at Barb's invitation and handed it to the redhead. Sitting down he warily looked around the room.

"I was good."

This caught Dick's attention. "Was?"

"Dad's just mad at me for bringing up wanting to do police work." The girl sighed as she hung up Dick's jacket in the adjoining room. "He's being unreasonable."

Yeah, Dick didn't want to have front row seats to this discussion. He kept his mouth shut and began to run through excuses to suddenly leave.

"You're far too smart to-."

"Dad!" The girl breathed, exasperated. "You know that argument doesn't work, not to mention offensive to your department!" She shot Dick a look and shook her head. "Let's not talk about this now. Ok?"

"Fine by me. How about I take you two out for ice cream?"

Dick thought that sounded terrible, but Barbara answered for both of them with a 'sounds great'. So instead, he offered to drive himself so he could leave afterwards. Barbara had smiled and grabbed his jacket, reaching into the pocket for the keys. "You mind if I drive your car there?" She had always loved driving Dick's car, and usually he had been fine with it, but seeing her hand reach into his coat set him into panic.

"DON'T!"

Startled Barbara froze momentarily, but then narrowed her eyes, after all the girl was a genius. Jim hadn't been lying about that. "Is there something you don't want people finding, Richard?"

Jim seemed confused.

"Yeah." Dick felt terror and anger spike. He wanted to tell the girl he had bought condoms, but realized how that would sound to her father. Bad idea. "And it's none of your business, is it, Barbara." He stormed forward to take the jacket back but the girl easily maneuvered away and dug, finding the two pills.

Her glare intensified as she threw them at the Romani. "You complete idiot! How *dare* you!"

"Barbara!" Dick hissed as he jerked his head towards her dad.

"I want my dad to see this! He can give you a good hard lecture on what happens to people caught with painkillers that have no prescription!" The girls face was flushed, making her rather pretty, but Dick hated her at that moment.

Jim bent down to pick up the pills, silent.

Dick reached out and jerked his jacket away from her, whispering a quiet 'fuck you,' that only she could hear. He was slipping into the coat when a hand caught his shoulder and he was forcefully jerked around by Gordon.

Jim was pissed. "You're high." No question posed there. "And you were driving and planing on driving again, possibly with my *daughter*!"

Dick's mouth went dry as he remembered the joint from earlier. "I would never, I swear." It was a lie.

His words were meaningless, and he was forcefully escorted to Jim's car and shoved inside. Barbara was pleading with her dad. "You aren't going to turn him in, dad! Ok? Swear it."

"I should damn well turn him in! But no, I'm bringing him home and making sure that his guardian deals with this and deals with it in a manner that I deem fit!" Jim slammed his own car door shut and speed off, leaving Barbara looking bewildered.

Dick said nothing, terrified of the man beside him. This was way worse than when Bruce had found out. A million times worse.

"I don't want you near my daughter again, you hear me? This is your only 'get out of jail free' card, but if this sort of thing happens again, I swear with God as my witness, I'll haul your ass in."

"Yes, sir."

"Is Bruce home?"

"I dunno."

"Call him, make sure he's there. If he's not, tell him to get there."

Dick slowly pulled out his phone and dialed.

Voicemail.

"He didn't answer." Dick felt a pull of relief that was instantly dispelled as his cell lit up and began vibrating. He stared at the screen as it read: Bruce. ...Yeah, he didn't want to answer.

"Answer it." Gordon snapped.

Lifting the phone to his ear, Dick did as told. "Hi, Bruce."

"You called?"

"Yeah, um, are you home?"

A pause. "I was about to leave. I have a date. Why?"

Dick tried to find the words.

"Dick?"

"Commissioner Gordon is driving me home and wants to talk to you."

Silence from the other line for a long while before Bruce ground out a: "why?"

"…"

"Dick, *why*?" The anger was thick and when there was no response from the seventeen year old it intensified. "Goddamn it, Dick!" And the billionaire hung up.

It took a few more minutes and a stiff walk before they were standing at the front door of the manor. Bruce apparently had been waiting and jerked the door open, glaring at his kid who refused to look at him. He glanced at Jim and motioned for them to come in. "What did he do?"

"He was driving under the influence." Jim said, pissed. "He came to my daughter's apartment high. He was about to get into a car, with my daughter, high. And judging from her reaction this has been going on for sometime?"

Bruce ran a hand over his eyes. "I thought it had been dealt with."

"Mr. Wayne, I don't want him around my daughter. I don't want my daughter coming to this house again. And if I ever catch this kid even thinking about breaking the law I'm bringing him in."

Dick felt his face burning as Bruce nodded. Jim was angry with Bruce, and it was his fault.

"I understand, Jim. I'm sorry this happened. It will be dealt with."

"…Hopefully better than before. Goodbye." He threw an especially dirty look at Dick before exiting and slamming the door as he did so.

Dick teetered a bit before looking at his guardian. "It was just some weed. I swear to god."

Bruce surveyed him for a moment before grabbing Dick's arm and following Jim outside "Jim, do you know what he was smoking?"

Gordon was about to get in his car and paused at the question. "Smoking? No. He had painkillers, Bruce." He shut his door and drove away.

Bruce dragged Dick back inside and flung him towards the couch. "Sit your ass down."

"I just smoked weed, I didn't take the pills, I swear to god." Dick said as he took a seat and looked up at the 6'2 figure towering above him. "The pills were old, ok? Test me if you don't believe me."

"I don't believe you."

"Check my grades, they're fine, I'm fine, I don't know why Gordon has a stick up his ass abou-."

"*Don't*. That man did you a huge favor bringing you home instead of jail!" Bruce yelled, he bent forward and jabbed a finger into Dick's chest so hard it hurt. "Do *not* disrespect him again."

'Seventeen.' Dick thought, pushing the offending finger aside. 'Seventeen and treated like a fucking child.' He narrowed his eyes and looked away. "Whatever, Bruce."

The man unfolded, returning to his height and shook his head. "You're being a spoiled little shit, you know that? Congrats. You managed to burn your bridge with the Gordon family."

"I'll still see Barbara."

"Not on my watch you won't. If commissioner Gordon doesn't want you near his daughter, and I don't blame him, then you won't go near his daughter."

"She's an adult, Bruce, I don't think either of you can tell her what to do."

"She's also Batgirl and she listens to orders. Especially if I tell her to stay away from my underage, seventeen-year-old, junkie son."

Son? While Dick had ached to hear that, the way it was presented was like a slap in the face. "I'm not a junkie and I'm not an alcoholic!" Dick badly wanted to add: 'you dumb fuck,' but held his tongue. He knew better. "I screw up one time and suddenly I'm this criminal in your mind."

"This isn't your first screw up, and you know it. You're a liar who will say anything to get what you want. At this point everything you say is irrelevant to me."

"Everything I say has always been irrelevant to you, so, yeah, *no* surprise there."

Bruce folded his arms across his chest. "I'm sick of the back talk, Richard. Consider this a warning."

"For what?! Are you going to hit me again?" Dick felt his temper flare at the memory and he shot to his feet. "You can't make me do shit! You say I'm your son, but I'm not – and you're not my father, so fucking stop with all the pretenses. I'm NOT a junkie, I'm NO DRUNK, and I'm done with the accusations - you pretentious, *controlling* ASSHOLE!"

When the backhand came this time, Bruce didn't hold back. He hit hard enough to knock the teen backwards onto the couch. Dick brought his hand to the still burning skin and stuttered, momentarily confused, but within seconds he was being hauled to his feet and shoved towards the staircase.

"Get the hell upstairs, I'm done with you right now."

Dick stumbled forward, almost tripping. At first he obeyed, still too stunned to do anything else but he tasted blood and came to a halt. He turned to face his guardian. "You ever touch me again and I'll leave."

Bruce wasn't intimidated. He pointed to the stairs. "Now, Richard."

Dick let the blood collect before spitting it on the spotless carpet and then headed to his room. He heard a door open and Alfred's concerned voice, but Dick tuned him out.

 

Bruce came upstairs with a screw driver about half an hour later to removed the door. Dick was atop the bed, lying on his belly, scrolling through his phone. He raised an eyebrow as if in disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

No answer was given. Bruce worked in silence. Once he was done he started collecting all the electronics, carting them away. He held out a hand for Dick's phone and the boy refused.

"No way. I need my phone."

Bruce took it anyway and placed a call, eyeing Dick as he did so. "Hello, is this Troy?" A pause. "This is Dick's ... father. He won't be joining your so called study sessions anymore nor giving you rides anywhere. Seeing as he's seventeen I trust you'll do as I say or I'll have you charged with providing alcohol and drugs to a minor. Thank you." He hung up and pocketed the phone.

"You realize it's not my fault everyone is older than me? Maybe if you didn't insist on me skipping grades this shit wouldn't happen, I'd be just a normal kid. But no, you force me into a university at sixteen and hate when I befriend kids who live a normal college lifestyle."

"You aren't a normal kid, and you didn't want to be. You wanted to be Robin and work alongside of the Batman. If you want so badly to be normal I can arrange that. We can put you back in high school with the other seventeen year olds. We can retire Robin. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like something you'd never let me do."

"Oh, yes I would, and you'd be miserable." Bruce countered. "You pick the friends you pick for a reason, Dick, don't blame the age factor, and don't blame me for pushing you to be better."

Anger coursed through Dick's veins and he wanted nothing more than to scream, yet in the end all he opted for was: "I *hate* you."

"That's fine, Dick. Just fine." And Bruce turned on his heels and left the room.

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Control yourself. Take only what you need from it." MGMT


	5. Chapter Five

(Continued from Chapter Four's ending)

"I hate you."

"That's fine, Dick. Just fine." Bruce had left the room and gone downstairs to find Alfred. He felt the need to talk to the butler, more so than usual. This was a problem he needed help with, there was no denying that.

Alfred was, oddly enough, in the cave, sorting through the medical equipment, checking dates and whatnot. He offered a forced smile to the billionaire at first but that quickly changed to concern. He had raised Bruce, he knew how to read the man better than anyone. "Are you alright, my dear boy?"

Bruce straightened up in retaliation to the coddling. "Fine."

"…Truly?"

"He hates me. He told me flat out – but I can't bring myself to care." Bruce saw Alfred give a look of disbelief and quickly continued. "I don't need to be validated. The problem is what are we supposed to do next? Lock him up? Send him away? Hire a permanent babysitter – which would be damn impossible seeing as Dick could easily outsmart them."

"Indeed."

"Tell me, how did we go from sixteen and the happiest kid ever to this?! He's blaming school and myself, but I think it's a front. I know his family was clean, so he doesn't have the addictive tendencies most addicts pass down." A frustrated pause. "I guess that means that I ruined him."

Alfred simply let the man continue to ramble.

"Which I don't believe." Bruce quickly amended before glancing away. He was clearly unsure.

"I'm sorry he said he hated you, that must have been hard to hear."

Bruce felt his chest clutch and he shook his head, swallowing the feeling. Alfred had a way of breaking things down and right now he didn't want to deal with this. "He's temperamental. I don't rely on what a seventeen-year-old thinks of me to get through the day."

Alfred let it go. "While the issue is serious, we need to take a step back. I do believe that forcing or controlling the young man will not make him stop if he doesn't want to stop. It will just make him all the more angry and dissuade him when he does need to come to us." A pause as Alfred caught Bruce's gaze. "And while tempting as Master Richard might make it, neither of us should ever lash out in anger."

"I know. --Yeah.-- Of course I know." Bruce shook his head. "I shouldn't have hit him like that."

"And you haven't ruined him, Master Bruce."

At this Bruce looked up, wanting to believe it.

"Perhaps you might consider talking to Mr. Oliver Queen? If I recall he has dealt with something similar."

"I don't think Ollie handled Roy's run in with heroin too well."

"Yes, but he might be someone to talk to all the same."

Bruce grunted. There was no way in hell he was calling.

"Though, lets make a point that this ordeal stays on a need-to-know basis. I hardly think having the entire superhero community aware of his mistakes will make returning to a normal lifestyle easier for Master Richard." Alfred made a point to sound firm. He saw Bruce take a deep breath, and smiled. "Yes, I believe he'll recover."

"Yeah." Bruce cleared his throat and turned to leave.

"Master Bruce?"

A pause before the billionaire turned back around. "Hm?"

"Thank you for talking with me."

 

 

Dick was surprised when no obvious lecture was forthcoming that night. Bruce seemed to actually be avoiding him. That or letting him stew, but Dick found himself slightly aloof to that approach. He was still too angry to feel guilty, and the premise of Bruce laying down more rules just heated the fire.

When Dick brushed his teeth that night, preparing for bed, he was reminded of the backhand. Bruce knew how to land a hit and tonight had been no exception. There was no real damage done, just a dull ache where he had bit his tongue, but that was more than enough. Making a point to work the sore muscle over his teeth he forced the bleeding to start again. He let it mix with saliva before spitting it into the sink and refused to rinse it away.

There.

Let Alfred see.

'Oh nice, first Alfred has to clean up your spit downstairs and now you're making him do it again?' Dick frowned and quickly washed the blood away. He wasn't a complete asshole, and knowing the butler, Bruce had probably gotten a lecture on the danger of hitting children you swore to protect.

Dick launched into bed and grabbed his Stephen King book and within half an hour he was fast asleep.

 

 

That following Monday Alfred had driven Dick to class. The teenager ignored the goodbye and hurried into the building. He got through the first two classes fine, the problem was when he entered his classroom for ACC 201 and went to sit by Troy. This had been a bad move.

Troy shot up, collected his bag and held out a hand when Dick opened his mouth. "Listen, kid, stay the hell away from me, ok? We're done."

"I'm sorry -."

"I don't wanna hear it. Tell your fuckin' parents I'm doing what they want. Ok? Fuck off." He made his way to sit with a group of girls that had been watching the exchange.

Dick slunk down in his seat and reminded himself that he led the Titans. He didn't need the approval of some twenty-year-old idiot. Throughout the lecture it felt like everyone was staring at him, so halfway through he collected his things and left. Eager for fresh air.

He spent the next forty minutes waiting for Alfred, during which time class was dismissed. He watched people shuffle out and past him. Troy didn't even spare him a look as he walked past. Dick let his eyes follow the retreating figure and made a decision.

"I'm done." Dick breathed out the statement. He'd had enough of all of this. He hated classes, he hated business, he wanted nothing to do with it anymore. Bruce could get pissed, but enough was enough. Dick wasn't happy anymore. This thing he was doing – it was sucking his soul dry.

Standing to his feet, he began to walk in the opposite direction. Going home sounded horrific, so guess what – he'd walk and hitch. Give himself some time to think. He knew Alfred would be looking for him, so what? Bruce shouldn't have taken his phone away.

It took a good three hours of mostly walking and one hitch before he was back at the manor. Alfred was furious when he saw the teen walk in and pointed to the stairs. "Go to your room, young man."

"Not my fault you guys took my phone." Dick snapped. He went upstairs and shrugged his backpack off. Within forty minutes he heard the heavy footsteps of Bruce approaching. The billionaire entered the room eerily calm.

"You want to explain?"

"I walked home. I would have called but I didn't have a phone."

"And borrowing one would have been impossible?"

Dick shrugged.

"You're too old for this."

"Thought it didn't matter how old I was."

Bruce seemed to steel himself, like he was getting ready for a screaming match. "You were being escorted to and from campus for a reason."

"Yeah, about that, I'm done going to class. I'm dropping out." Dick warily eyed his guardian. He wasn't going to get smacked again.

Bruce said nothing for a long time, but his hands balled into tight fists.

"You can't force me to go."

"What's your plan then? Going to make a career out of snorting pills and drinking?"

"Oh, like you're so high and mighty!" Dick snarled, getting to his feet. He shoved out a hand into Bruce's chest? (It had little effect.) "You're so perfect, right?! That's why you're out - Every. Other. Week – getting some strange, fucking new pussy. Yeah, I'm sure your mother would be just *thrilled* with you."

"Watch your mouth."

Dick folded his arms. "I will if you stop accusing me of being some kind of burnt out moron."

"In this house we respect women. I don't care how angry you are."

"Yeah, you've perfected treating women right, Bruce."

Bruce was done with it. All of it. He'd been understanding, he'd tried to help, and while he loved the kid it was clear he wasn't getting through. If anything, things were spiraling out of control. "You have a job, and that job is college. Your full-time job is getting a degree, and I refuse to let you abandon that and still remain under my roof." He paused and added: "And I refuse to have a partner guarding my back, who makes such disastrously self-destructive decisions."

Dick narrowed his eyes. "Someone has been talking to Dr. Hintrop."

"You have a choice here."

"Just because I hate school? Wow, I'm miserable there, so I get out and this is your response?" Dick shook his head and held up his hands, as if defeated. "Fine, whatever. I'll pack and get the fuck out."

Bruce didn't hesitate. He turned and left the room, Dick could hear him next door in his own bedroom and a few seconds later the billionaire returned, tossing something at the boy.

Dick caught the item and was surprised to see his car keys.

"Be careful driving under the influence, because I refuse to bail you out when you're finally caught. I'll just pray you don't wind up killing some innocent bystander." And like that the man was gone. There was the noise of a short-lived argument downstairs, and then silence. Dick felt frozen as he stared down at the keys, realizing that he had officially been kicked out of his childhood home.

Hadn't he expected this?

Someone was speaking and when Dick finally looked up he saw Alfred.

"What? Sorry, Alfie, I wasn't … I – I didn't hear you."

The butler hurried forward and drew Dick into a tight, unexpected hug. "We will figure this out."

It was the first time someone had offered him comfort since the shit storm began, and probably longer before that still. Dick had been cruel to Alfred, had flipped the man off, lied to him, cussed him out … And yet Alfred still loved him. The tears that came were honest, and Dick let himself be held for a few seconds before pushing away and shaking his head. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I need to pack."

"You don't need to pack, master Dick. This is your home."

"Yes, I do." Dick said, wiping an arm across his face. He grabbed his backpack and emptied it onto his bed. Then, digging through his drawers and closet, began to pile clothes and shoes onto the bed.

"I will speak to master Bruce, you aren't going anywhere."

Dick just shook his head as he numbly pulled out a suitcase and began shoving things inside. "You weren't here, you don't know. I'll stay with the Titans tonight and find a job and an apartment tomorrow." He paused. "I'm seventeen. It would have happened next year anyways."

"It most certainly would not, this is your home always."

"I'm not Robin anymore. I'm not anything anymore."

"That's not true and you know it."

Once again Dick just shook his head and went into the bathroom to get the rest of his stuff. When he came back into his adjoining room the butler was gone. Instead of dwelling, Dick hurried to finish up before slipping on his shoes and his coat. He was going downstairs when Alfred appeared with a bag.

"Your electronics and some money - no arguing. I'll speak with master Bruce, call me before you go to bed to let us know you're ok."

Dick accepted the help. "I'll call you, Alfred." Not Bruce.

"We both love you, Dick. You know that." The lack of 'master' said more than anything.

Dick wrapped the butler into a tight hug. "I love you too, Alfie."

 

 

"I don't want to discuss it."

Alfred had gone down to the cave after Dick had left, and found the young man he'd raised. "You will discuss it, and you will discuss it right now."

Bruce was suited up, apparently preparing for patrol. He latched his belt in silence.

"Look at me!"

The Batman wasn't Bruce Wayne, but he apparently still had enough respect for his parental figure to do as requested. "He's welcome back the moment he gets his life back, not before."

Alfred fumed. "Shame on you! Do you hear me? Shame on you! You don't get to be a parent only when it's easy or convenient, it's a life long, full time job. One which you are currently failing!"

"You want me to drag him back, indulge his tantrums and destructive behavior? He was driving high! He could have killed someone. No, not anymore."

"He's seventeen, send him to rehab if you must, just don't turn your back on him."

Batman clearly wasn't in the mood for arguing. "I was getting by just fine at seventeen."

"This child isn't you. You were graduated with multiple degrees, you had billions! You never thrived on love, not the way master Richard does." Alfred could see his words had little effect. "I've loved you when you've made it damn near impossible, I've never – nor will I ever – turn my back on you."

"You're my butler, you're paid-."

"How *dare* you. How dare you insult me like this."

This time Bruce actually seemed chided. "Sorry."

"Master Richard will be calling tonight. I expect you to be here to talk when he does." Alfred was hopeful that his words would sink in, but when the call came that night, Bruce was nowhere to be found.

 

Seven Months Later:

Dick was fairly happy, he had to admit, after all he was moving back to Gotham. He had found a loft at a fairly good deal and was planning to surprise Alfred the following day. A lot had changed in the past few months. He'd left home. He discovered his new identity as Nightwing (with help from Kal-El regarding the name and Alfred concerning the black costume with the sky blue bird). He'd left the Teen Titans. So yeah, a lot of new changes.

He was currently living off his parents money, but knew he'd have to find a job soon. The last thing he wanted was to burn through everything they'd left for him. Going to Bruce or Alfred was out of the question.

A knock at his door had him momentarily confused, but as he swung it open a smile skirted across his face. "You found me."

Barbara Gordon tilted her head to the side as she rolled her eyes. "Of course I did. I always stalk family." She reached out and hugged him only to start laughing. "Damn, you're going to be taller than me within weeks."

"Nice try, I've been taller for awhile."

"Pha!" She pushed him away. "I'll never admit to it."

"What? Afraid to see me as a man?"

To this the girl laughed and walked past him into the empty space he'd rented. "You've got a few more weeks before the you're eighteen, kiddo. Besides, I'm pretty sure the superhero rumor mill has churned out a rather exotic relationship between you and a half cat creature?"

"Kori descends from cats, she's not half cat. And we're over, so yeah."

"I'm glad you're back, does Bruce know?" A pause. "I've just assumed not."

Dick shook his head and shut the door, closing them both in. "I'm planning to surprise Alfred tomorrow."

"Surprise." Barbara intimidated, using jazz hands. She sauntered about the apartment, occasionally going through boxes.

"…Your dad'll be pissed if he finds out we've been together. I'm assuming that's why you've avoided me these past few months?" There was bitterness when he spoke, but Dick couldn't help it. The girl had said they were family, but family didn't bail the way Bruce and Barb had.

She was in the middle of unpacking his dishes, which consisted of a mismatched set of 2 bowls, 3 plates, one spoon, 2 forks, and 5 cups. "No pots or pans?"

"Huh?"

"You don't have any pots or pans."

"I don't really cook."

"Oh. Huh." She finished laying out the items before speaking again. "You didn't ever try to talk to me, Dick. At first I figured you were too angry since I was the one who got you into trouble, but after talking with Bruce and Alfred, it appeared you had moved on with your life." Green eyes flashed at this. "You weren't exactly in the best place, you know, mentally, when you left. But from what I heard through the rumor mill, you're doing amazing."

Dick snorted. "Wait. You're mad at me? You chose him over me, Babs!"

Those green eyes had always been able to cue any emotion and force an overload on whoever they surveyed. Right now the emotion was a mixture of hurt and fury. "I'm here, Dick! In case you haven't realized. Out of the two of us I'm the one trying to fix things. I'm sorry things happened the way they did, but everyone is at fault, and that includes you."

"…" Dick knew she was right, but he still felt hurt. "Yeah, maybe."

"Now can I help you unpack, or what?"

Dick offered a slow smile and a nod. "That'd be great, thanks." They worked in silence for a good long while before he spoke again. "So how did you find out I was back?"

"I'm an amazing Batgirl. Detective skills up the wazoo." She paused and pulled out a ratty blanket and attempted to fold the item. "And because Bruce has kept track of you since the day you left."

At this Dick froze. A sort of warmth enveloped him and he quickly forced away any hopeful feelings. Instead he focused on Barbara. "You know wazoo means anus."

"Course I do, but when I curse I make sure I'm damn polite about it." She was folding a fitted sheet, using her chin to hold it in place. "Not all of us need vulgarity to be heard."

"Ha. Cool."

"Cool beans," was her happy retort.

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, Jason is coming next chapter. There is a part two, and he's the other main character.


	6. Chapter Six

The next day Dick drove to the manor. He had specifically chosen a time he knew Bruce wouldn't be home. The last thing either of them needed was an impromptu conversation. It was then and there he ran into something he'd never imagined possible.

A kid.

"You must be Dick, huh?" The boy's accent was so Gotham it was painful. He had dark, purposefully messy, hair, blue-green eyes, and while perfectly clean seemed dirty all the same. His teeth were slightly crooked but in such a way that they were more endearing than anything. "I've expected you for awhile now."

Why was there a kid in the manor and why the hell did he act like he'd been born to stand where he stood and say what he said? Dick couldn't bring himself to do anything more than stare.

"Bruce and Alfred said you were a talker." The preteen (possibly?) sauntered forward, hands digging into his front pockets. "I heard you were puff, puff, pass … you know, to the left. That the case right now?"

"Who are you?" Dick finally forced.

"I'm Jason." There had been a moment of obvious surprise, as if the teen (preteen?) had been under the impression Dick knew who he was. "So, you do speak."

"Why are you here? Who are you?!" Dick's voice shook; from anger, from fear, from whatever – it made no difference. Walls were falling, the ground beneath his feet was dissolving.

Jason momentarily considered before lifting up two fingers to his head, obviously mimicking the cowl. "His new sidekick."

Alfred voice was coming from down the hall, calling his name in an excited tone, but Dick turned around and fled back to his car. He couldn't possibly deal with this.

"Master Dick?"

Jason was saying something now and Dick tuned them both out and got the hell away.

 

"Do you know how easy I am to throw away?" Dick demanded. He held back his tears. Goddamn, if anything he'd hold back his tears. Despite Barbara's obvious pain in hearing his words, he continued, his voice breaking with the words. "It's so easy!"

"Dick," Barbara pleaded, "nobody's throwing you away."

"That's how it feels. I currently live in fear. Every word I say, every word people respond, I go over and over them in fear that I've said something wrong. That I've messed up again and that someone else is going to learn how to hate me." Dick ran his hands through his hair, gripped, and pulled tight. He yanked at the roots and felt relief in the action. He felt relief in the pain. "It's like hell."

Barbara's was speaking again in her calming, logical, sisterly voice. "You are loved, Dick. Even if you don't feel or recognize it. You are loved so much."

"Then why did he throw me away? Why did he throw me away and find someone else?! Am I really that easy to replace?"

"Oh, Dick – people make mistakes. Bruce made a mistake. You made a mistake. It doesn't mean either of you are throwing the other away. What you're feeling right now, Bruce is feeling the exact same thing."

"Ha! I didn't go out and start training under someone else!"

"No, but-."

"I made a mistake, ok? I made a mistake and he threw me away!" Enough was enough. Dick let his legs crumple beneath him as he hid his face. He was aware of the warm arms encircling him and shoved them away. "Leave! Ok? Just leave. You're his partner. Just -just leave me alone."

Barbara's voice was warm and comforting despite the abrasive maneuver. "You're my family, Dick, I'm not going anywhere."

"Leave!" Purposefully shoving the girl again, Dick rose to his feet. "Just go! Ok? Ok? Just go!"

This was his childhood sweetheart. The unattainable girl with green eyes and red hair. She'd babysat him a few times. She'd become Batgirl and she'd become family. How could he treat her like this?

Easy.

He was hurting bad enough.

She pressed a kiss, purposefully and lovingly hard, against his temple, reiterated an: "I love you, Boy Wonder." And left with a resounding click of the door.

 

Dick allowed himself to wallow for a few minutes before pulling out his phone and dialing Bruce. He was slightly surprised when it went voicemail and yet knew, in the back of his mind, that he should have expected it. Bruce didn't have time for him before, why would he make time now?

"Hi, Bruce, it's Dick. I met Jason, just wanted to congratulate you on finding a new kid to fuck up. I hope you manage to make him miserable and self-hating in that special kind of way. But knowing you, you'll do a bang up job and he'll end up dead. Go fuck yourself." Dick hung up with the deep seeded feeling that he'd gone too far, cause, of course, he had.

Well, forget it, he'd managed to returned a portion of his own hurt. Dialing on his phone again, he prayed his old dealer was still into pushing oxy.

 

He'd forgotten what it had been like. The instant burning, the bitter yet sweet taste in the back of his throat. His head instantly tilted back as he allowed the discomfort to rush past. God, it was good already. His brain welcomed the old ritual, knowing what would come eventually.

Numbing bliss.

Dick savored the feeling as he pushed one nostril closed and snorted the lingering remaining powder that hadn't quite made it.

He was tempted to lick the spoon, to digest whatever dust remained, but refused. He still had another pill to crush, and saliva was notoriously sticky. He didn't want more powder on the spoon than in his sinuses.

And he didn't bother pouring a glass of the vodka. No, he drank it straight from the bottle. Again and again and again. It didn't take long for his mind to become muddy. There was a rush of excitement, like everything was good, but that faltered as soon as he recalled Jason Todd and Bruce Wayne.

Hurt was turned to unstoppable anger, quickly followed by the need to speak his mind. Dick stumbled toward the bathroom and peered into the mirror, studying his reflection. He was good, right? Yeah.

Definitely.

He was good.

Snatching his car keys and a can of off brand Pepsi, Dick left his building, sliding into and starting his car.

He was good.

Defiantly.

Right up until he was pulled over for running a stop sign.

 

Dick's B.A.C. was fairly high, but his being under seventeen, and the fact that he hadn't any priors, helped. Cuffs were placed, but they were latched so his wrists were I front of him, and he was seated in the passenger seat of the car. The arresting cop, who drove him to intake, had a lazy eye, bad breath and was probably one of the more decent people on the force. The man was quiet, but answered questions.

"Are you going to call my parents?"

"We have to, kid."

"My dad isn't really part of my life, and-."

"Kid, we gotta call your parents and or guardian. End of story. It's the law."

Intake was a mix of concerning(!) and educational. The officer who had arrested him didn't say much, but after pictures and prints (while changing into the horrible orange scrubs) Dick overheard him telling the two cops on duty to cut him some slack. The officer muttered that Dick was cooperative and clearly out of his element, he even asked them to: "take care of the kid."

So, instead of being shoved into a room filled with other drunks to sweat it out, Dick was put into handcuffs and kept within view of the two men at the desk. They easily conversed with him, and even went as far as giving him tips on how to be avoided during his next drinking and driving episode.

"Backroads, kid, always take the backroads."

Despite being the one reprimanded for a DUI, Dick found them offensive.

He was released within a few hours, escorted to a lobby where Bruce Wayne was signing papers. The billionaire gave a sideways glance at his charge as he passed the clipboard back to the woman. "Thanks." He turned to Dick.

The man looked tired, there were dark circles around his eyes. Though, despite everything, he had still managed to look overly stylish and respectable. He remained silent as the accompanying officer removed Dick's shackles.

"Bruce," was all Dick managed, refusing to meet those blue eyes. He still remembered how Bruce had declared, only a few months prior, that he'd never bail Dick out. Well, here they both were.

Here they both were.

"We're going home." Bruce said and walked out of the building.

 

The drive home was mostly silent, save Bruce explaining the situation. "You're under age, so you'll be charged under Zero Tolerance. This means a hearing wherein your license will most likely be revoked for six months as well as some monetary charges."

Dick kept his mouth shut. Bruce had to have heard the voicemail he'd left by this point.

"I will cover these." Bruce stated it as if he were unsure.

Once again all Dick could do was remain silent.

"You'll stay at the manor for the night. We'll discuss what comes next in the morning." Bruce said as he drove.

"I'll pay you back."

"Fine, but I ask – as a kind of payment until then - that you remain at the manor till morning. I hope you're already aware of my deep disappointment." A hesitation. "But Alfred will insist."

Dick jerked his head to fashion a nod.

"Also I need to research laws regarding what is expected of me. You'll be unable to drive, and while you may be independent, I assume you'll be in need of assistance. Legally I'm required to provide it."

Ouch. That hurt. "They haven't pulled my license yet, Bruce."

"No, but I think it's safe to say … it's going to happen."

"If that happens I'll get a bus pass." Dick was grateful when they arrived at the manor.

Bruce pulled into the overly large garage and parked haphazardly. "Fine. Either way, regarding what happened, I'm-." He caught Dick's arm as the boy began to get out of the car. "We're talking."

Heaving a sigh Dick sat back in his seat and jerked his arm free. He pulled a leg close to his chest and began to itch his ankle. For whatever reason it seemed to be on fire. "Ok, regarding what happened…" He waited for Bruce to continue.

"I've made a point to protect you from rumors. I didn't want word getting out that you had a … problem."

Dick kept his mouth shut even though he full heartedly disagreed with that statement.

"But after tonight's events I'll be contacting Clark and Diana. We'll discuss your status as Nightwing and whether you'll be forced into a temporary hiatus. I'll wait till morning, and I hope you'll stick around to hear our decision." Bruce was watching Dick's hand as it furiously scrubbed against his ankle. "…you ok?"

"They'll vote whatever you vote, Bruce, they're your friends and they're not going to risk making you mad."

"I wouldn't say friends, and all three of us make a point to say what we think, we're not the clique you seem to believe."

"No?"

Bruce snaked out his arm and snatched Dick's finger that had been digging into his ankle. "You're drawing blood."

Momentarily confused, Dick looked down and saw Bruce had been right, he'd managed to scratch off quite a bit of skin. His ankle was an angry red mixed with a few red droplets. Upon closer examination it almost seemed more of a burn, like he'd taken an eraser to his skin. Wow. How had he not felt himself doing that?

Oh yeah. That'd be the oxy mixed with vodka. Perfect blend for unconscious self harm.

"I'd ask how many oxy you snorted," Bruce growled, guessing instantly as he released Dick's hand, "but I don't want to be lied to." The billionaire shook his head and drew a hand down his face. He was tired of this. Dick had been lucky the cops hadn't realized he was high. Just how many pain pills did it take to make it so you couldn't feel your own skin being torn? Bruce knew, but it was Dick's tolerance he didn't want to think about. No, he wanted to suit up and go out. He didn't want to deal with a teenager who clearly hated him and refused all help.

Dick hadn't been back in his life more than a few hours and the stress was already mounting.

What the hell happened to his kid? To that happy little kid?

Bruce left the car and retreated into the manor.

 

Dick made himself shower and then remained in his bedroom. If anyone were to accuse him of hiding, they'd be right. He didn't want to face Bruce or Alfred and especially not Jason. The boredom was consuming, and without a phone Dick was basically cut off from everything.

He tried to sleep, but at four AM he'd had enough. Slipping into the dark hallway he crept down the stairs, relieved to find everyone scarce. No doubt in bed.

Bruce's study held the only computer he could really access, and so that's where he found himself. He was grateful to discover the password was still the same (really?) and tucked himself into the computer chair. His plan had been to send Barbara a message, begging her to come take him to his loft, but as soon as the lock screen disappeared he found himself faced with a surprising file.

Dick, it read simply. The old, familiar of anger instantly sparked until he read the documents stored. They were all sound clips with various words and ages.

Glancing around as if someone was possibly in the room, Dick clicked one at random. The voices that filtered through the speakers belonged to Bruce and himself, and according the title he'd been eleven.

"Ok, you wanna repeat that that?" Bruce was saying.

An exasperated sigh. "Stop interrupting, Bruce!"

"Last time, swear to god." Bruce's voice was surprisingly young and that somewhat startled Dick. He'd always known Bruce had been only 21 years old when he'd opened his home to the Romani, but that had always seemed so much older as a kid. Now, almost eighteen, with many friends who were in their early to late twenties, the fact held a newfound value.

It'd be one thing to have a baby at that age, wherein you raised and sculpted and slowly learned about kids, but Dick had been eight. The age difference between he and Bruce was only 13 years.

Bruce had only been a kid himself when he'd taken Dick in.

"When fish talk they sound like wind-chimes. Mom always said that it was the sound between summer and autumn. You know, when the black walnuts begin to fall?"

Bruce's verbal affirmation had come as a semi-amused hum.

"Mom collected broken colored glass in jars of water. She'd keep them in the sunlight and swirl the water and say they were fish scales."

The voice clip ended abruptly.

Dick quickly clicked the next one and felt color creep into his cheeks. The whole thing was just his nine-year-old laughter. Whatever they had been doing had apparently been the cause of great delight. Giggles and squeals with the occasional: "I'm gonna tell on you!"

The next clip had been a video. Dick was in the old playground located behind the manor, the one hidden in the woods. He was standing atop the rusted old jungle gym, hands on his hips, all of twelve years old. It looked to be early winter, everything was grey, brown and black. "Are you ready alreadys?!"

"Yeah, make it quick though, Dick." There was slight frustration in Bruce's voice, obviously recording. "I need to be getting back."

"Cause of her." The accusation was quick.

"Now or never, chum. Let's see how well you remember your parts."

"Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedica-." His voice came to a halt. "You didn't come to the play 'cause of her. You aren't even trying to catch her."

The camera moved, in a blur, till it was displaying only trees. "If you don't want-."

Another recording came to an end.

Dick had remembered that one. He'd gotten to play Lincoln in his schools play about Johnny Appleseed. Bruce had been too busy to come. Dick still remembered his anger and hurt. He'd been so proud that he'd been cast as this great American president despite his origins. He had memorized the Gettysburg Address, and to this day still had it down verbatim.

When Bruce had told him he'd missed it because of Catwoman Dick had been furious. Selina was never a threat, and understood the difference between chasing Catwoman and having sex with the criminal. He'd told the man as much and Bruce had sent it to his room for the night.

The next day Bruce appeared guilty and tried to make it better, but it had taken awhile for that hurt to be forgiven. Those had been a bad four days.

Tucking his legs close and resting his chin against the top on his knees, Dick scrolled through a bunch of pictures of himself at different ages. To his surprise there were even some from just a few months ago, right before he'd left the manor. Alfred had taken most of them, of that he was sure. Bruce wasn't the kind of guy who displayed obvious affection like that. No, Bruce would have been too embarrassed to take pictures. There was a reason most of the clips were voice only.

Just like the next one Dick double clicked.

At first it was just a bunch of noises, and Dick could only guess the phone had been accessed to record while in Bruce's pocket and was now being pulled out. The garbled speech became clear as Dick's. There was no age in the title, it simply read: 'monologue Dick'. He sounded pretty young.

/"-with grey hair. I've been all over the whole world, ya know. Mom and dad said travel is better than school, but I like both. Have you ever seen a pig with wings? I have. They weren't really wings and the pig didn't speak English cause it lived in Germany, but it's wings were these weird skin flaps. It was born wrong. Mom said she still loved it."

"No se...?" It was the voice of a stranger, accent thick, but a smile in his voice all the same.

"It's good to travel, so don't worry. You're probably learning a lot."

Bruce's voice suddenly cut in. "Dick, let's let Mr. Ortega get going, ok? Like I said, he doesn't speak English."

"So?"

"So he doesn't understand what you're saying. Lo siento, Mr. Ortego."

"People don't have to speak the same language to understand, Bruce. And you said his name wrong."/

That was the end of the random clip. Dick pushed away from the desk and let the computer chair roll backwards and bump Into the wall behind him. He continued to sit, curled into himself, thinking.

Mostly realizing.

Bruce still loved him. Still loved him, like, a lot. Fuck up or not.

Didn't this prove it? Well, it was that or the billionaire was trying to remind himself that he'd once loved Dick. That or Alfred was launching some elaborate scheme to shove reminders down Bruce's throat and this was part of it.

Getting to his feet the teenager left the study and trekked back upstairs where he lingered outside of his guardians door. He could hear the heavy, slumbering, breathing and pushed the door open. "Bruce?" He tried tentatively.

No go.

Hesitating, he reached out hand and carefully shook the man's shoulder. At the same moment Bruce's alarm began to beep, 5 AM, Dick should have known better. He took two quick steps back as his mentor sat upright and blinked at him whilst hitting the top of the clock.

"Jason?"

As if the visit couldn't get any worse. Dick felt the need to flee the room, but as soon as he turned a hand caught his fingers, tugging him back.

"Sorry, chum." Bruce's tone was a mix of early morning deep and oddly comforting. "Did you need something?"

Dick's old nickname made things worse yet better, and got him to face the man holding his hand. He hesitated, at a loss of what to say. He'd come to make sure he was still loved, but at this moment all he wanted was to leave. "You're going to morning workouts with Jason."

"…Yeah, that had been the plan, but if you need something…?"

"No." Dick rushed as he tugged his hand free. "No. I'm fine."

Bruce swung his legs to the side of the bed and stood. He looked down at Dick, obviously doubting the words. "What's going on, Dick?" A pause. "Nightmare?"

At the suggestion Dick's face instantly flushed. He hadn't come to Bruce for nightmares for years now. How old did he think Dick was?! "No!"

There was a knock at the door and both turned to see Jason leaning against the frame. He was already dressed and rearing to go. Lifting a hand in a general greeting he nodded towards Dick. "Hey."

"We're going to skip workout this morning." Bruce instructed.

"Bruce, go do your thing, I just – I didn't need anything, ok? I just wanted … a, uh, a ride home." It was the best Dick could do. "I, well… I can't sleep here, and I'm tired. So can you just bring me home?"

"I'll talk to you later, Jason." Bruce said, the inflection obvious in his voice. He waited till the teen was gone before looking back to his eldest. "I'd prefer you to stay till after I call the JLA." He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a t-shirt, slipping it over his head.

"I don't see why-."

At this Bruce snapped his head towards the Romani and glared. "You were arrested for drunk driving, Dick. Considering who you are, I doubt that's going to go unnoticed, so no matter what they'll hear. But more importantly, you could have killed someone, and the last thing anybody needs is Nightwing making a fatal mistake because he's drunk or high. You'd cast an ugly light on the superhero community." He walked back over to Dick. "Trust me, the last thing I want is to tell Clark and Diana about this. I won't lie, I'm ashamed of you."

Dick shrugged his shoulders, not looking up. "Nothing new there."

"Yeah, Dick, it is new for me." He ground out. "Come on, well talk in the cave." Bruce took the lead and Dick reluctantly trailed behind, hands deep in his pockets and throat constricting the closer they came. Once down in the dark hideaway his eyes caught movement. Jason was practicing.

Just great. Now the new kid could witness his public shaming.

Bruce quickly tapped into the computer and within a few seconds had Diana on the line. He asked her where Clark was and within seconds the Man of Steel had whooshed into existence, smiling down at Dick.

"Hiya, kid."

Jason was frozen, apparently this was a first for him, seeing the Man of Steel.

"You didn't have to come personally." Bruce muttered as he rolled slightly back in his chair, he templed his hands together. "Either way, Dick and I wanted to talk to you both about something." And like that he launched into a quick explanation.

Dick watched Clark's face fall the more the story progressed. This was bad. Dick was praying for the ground to swallow him up by the time his guardian had finished. He refused to look at any of the three adults.

"Well, this is fairly serious." Diana said. "I don't see a point in voting, Bruce, we all know he cannot continue his crime fighting until we're sure he's … recovered."

"I am recovered." Dick whispered. "I was just being stupid."

Bruce remained stoic, looking between his teammates.

"Dick, you're a good kid, but it sounds like you need to take a break. Huh? I think it'd be best-."

"I don't see why any of you should get a say in my life." Dick snarled, startling only Clark. The reporter looked sad and glanced towards Bruce who remained unmoved.

Diana spoke first. "Bruce, Clark, I vote for temporary suspension."

"Seconded." Bruce replied.

Clark simply nodded in affirmation. "Once you get better you can start up again."

"Bruce." And the Amazon princess signed off.

Clenching his fists, Dick glared between the remaining two. "You can't do this. How many psychos are out there that you let run around? Hell, Green Arrow drinks on the job. Don't tell me he doesn't."

"You know that's not true, Dick."

"No, I don't, Clark."

Bruce dropped his hands and turned to the teenager. "That's enough, Dick. Thanks for coming, Clark. I apologize for the inconvenience."

Clark slowly nodded, but before he left he pulled Dick into a quick hug that was pointless to struggle against. "Talk to you soon, kid." And he was gone with a loud gust.

"Well, congrats, you got what you wanted."

"I didn't want any of this, Dick." Bruce kept their eyes locked for a moment before Dick looked away. "And like it or not it is my responsibility to take care of you, so that's what's going to happen."

"I'll be eighteen soon."

"Well, until March 20th we'll have to try to come to a sort of middle ground. End all Nightwing activity. I'm more than happy for you to stay here, but will understand if you remain at your apartment."

Dick wished he'd never come back to Gotham. What had he been thinking?! He should have known better. There was no way he could resume crime fighting until the ban was lifted. The JLA would be watching. Bruce would be watching. His whole life was under a microscope at this point, and the realization that his friends would hear about it caused a momentary panic.

"Did you hear me?"

"Huh?" Dick looked up at the man. "What?"

"I told you to go and try to sleep. You look like hell."

"Well, you just threw me under the bus, so there is that."

Bruce shook his head. "You got yourself into this position. Just be glad there are people trying to help you get back out."

"So that's what this is? Help? For me? I thought it was about the superhero community saving face. I thought it was about protecting everyone from me. Isn't that the most important thing?!" Dick felt his stomach give a pull, and he wanted to puke. He could feel his body trembling.

Bruce seemed to be considering him for a moment, as if unsure how to proceed. "Yes, that's why it was brought before the JLA." A hesitation. "But I'm also doing what I can to protect you. Even if you don't like it. You're important as well."

Dick felt himself flush and bowed his head a bit. He hadn't expected that. It took some of the sting away. He caught view of Jason and felt his face burn all the more. The kid was on the high bars, seemingly oblivious to the conversation. "You're embarrassed of me. You said so yourself."

"What do you want me to say, Dick?"

"I don't know, ok, I dunno." The teenager thought of all the sound clips and pictures on Bruce's laptop and shook his head. "You don't act like you want me around. I mean, you didn't even ever try to contact me after I left, which sucked. Lets face it, you replaced me as soon as you could." He gestured towards Jason. "And the only reason I'm here is cause I fucked up and the cops called you. Otherwise you'd probably still be avoiding me."

"It goes both ways, Dick."

At this the Romani shook his head, feeling his eyes begin to prick with tears. "It doesn't though, not really. You kicked me out. You were done with me so you threw me away and-." Dick choked back the oncoming waterworks. No way was he going to start crying in front of Bruce and the new kid. "And it sucked, Bruce. It really sucked."

"Your decisions were disastrous, I was trying to make you realize that. You got clean after you left."

"Yeah, cause I wasn't in school anymore. I wasn't miserable. Don't you get it? School sucked, I had to quit."

"So why did you start drinking and snorting again? You were so happy to be out of school, the cause of all your woes." The slight sarcasm didn't go unnoticed. "Why start back up?"

Dick blinked, surprised. "Because I came here and saw you'd replaced me!"

Bruce was quiet for a moment. "You were Nightwing. What did you want me to do?"

It was getting cold and Dick badly wanted to crawl into his warm bed. He felt sick. Why were things so difficult, he and Bruce constantly went around in circles. Should he even try and fight it? "You replaced me." He repeated. "You acted like it didn't even hurt that I was gone. I love you, Bruce, but at times you're impossible." He was done, over and out. Turning towards the stairs he tried to leave.

"Dick, I did miss you."

"Then why didn't you try to talk to me?"

"I assumed you didn't want me around anymore."

"You were the adult, Bruce. You were the parent. You kick me out and ignore me. Of course I'm not going to talk to you, you cut me out of your life. You made it clear that you didn't want me anymore."

The billionaire was never good with this sort of thing. He shifted his weight and shook his head. "... I still want you, mistakes and all. I'm confused why you would ever need to hear that."

"Because I don't know it, Bruce!" Dick's voice broke and a few tears fell. He scrubbed at his face. "Fuck."

"Jason, upstairs please." Bruce ordered, apparently trying to spare Dick's embarrassment.

The thirteen year old dropped from the bars, confused. "What? Why?" He caught sight of Dick and raised an eyebrow. "Is he really crying? For real?"

"Now, Jason!"

The boy rolled his eyes and headed for the stairs. "Didn't realize I was filling the shoes of a pussy." He muttered. Bruce yelled out a: "right now!" And Jason ran upstairs, seeming rather pleased. Bruce waited till they were alone.

"Nice kid." Dick managed.

"He was raised differently than you. Ignore him." Bruce seemed slightly uncomfortable himself.

Dick gave his face one last swipe and tried to laugh it off but the he sounded like he was still crying. He startled when Bruce put a hand on his shoulder.

"We can talk later if you need to compose– well, if this is too hard."

Shaking his head, Dick sighed. He was tired and feeling the after effects of the night before. He looked up at Bruce. "I'm just being stupid."

"… Well, that's ok," was the lame answer as Bruce turned back towards the computer.

"Hey, Bruce?"

The billionaire paused mid-step and glanced back.

"I'm pretty angry. Ok, more like super angry and I'll probably be hurt for awhile." Dick took a deep breath and lifted his head to see Bruce looking a mix of concerned and annoyed, like he clearly knew this could go any which way. So, putting the man out of his misery, Dick crossed the distance and slipped into a hug.

Apparently Bruce hadn't expected that outcome. There was obvious hesitation before it was halfway returned.

"I got on your laptop last night," Dick murmured. "Basically that file on me ... well, it saved your ass."

"Oh." Was that embarrassment? Nah, Dick knew the billionaire well enough. There was a feeling of being pulled closer that lasted all of five seconds before Bruce carefully pushed back away. "Breakfast?"

It was still fairly early, but Dick complied and followed him back up to the manor. Jason was already eating a bowl of fruit in front of the television. All three seemed to ignore each other as Bruce excused himself and went upstairs. Dick followed his old routine and snagged a box of cereal, hesitated, and then made the decision of join the strange kid a few rooms over.

Jason watched out of the corner of his eye as Dick seated himself beside him on the couch. Mind, they were both on opposing sides, but it was still close enough to be slightly uncomfortable. "You aren't going to start crying or anything, are you?"

Dick gave a partial smile as he opened the box. One glance at the television showed the news. "It's my number one defense." Dick retorted.

"Hn. I actually believe that."

"Got rid of you, didn't it?"

Jason shoved a bite of muskmelon into his mouth. "I wanted to stay and laugh at you, it was Bruce who made me leave."

"Exactly. Bruce did what I wanted. Power of my tears, you little shit." The Romani made sure to include a smile in his voice, and it worked. Jason glanced over, surprised, and broke into the first ever smile Dick had ever seen from the boy.

 

The next morning, as he got out of bed, Dick found himself feeling lighter. Jason and he had planned for an early morning run. Lacing up his shoes he glanced at his ankle, seeing the fingernail marks. They were now a deep red and scabbed over. The edges were still slightly swollen, but Dick's body knew what to do.

It knew how to heal itself.

End


End file.
